


Under Stars

by princesskay



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s07e16 Workforce, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Holodecks/Holosuites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 11:32:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10411212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: Following the events of Workforce, Kathryn is more homesick and lonely than ever. She shows Chakotay a private holodeck program, where the truth about their feelings for one another finally emerge





	

Chakotay asked the computer to locate Kathryn, his comment rather absentminded, as if he were more engrossed in the book spread on his lap rather than his captain. 

“Captain Janeway is in Holodeck One.” The Computer replied, cheerfully. 

Chakotay tilted his head back, and released a low sigh. His mind hadn’t left her since the crew’s rescue from the Quarra workforce. The pained looked in her eyes as Tom guided them away from the planet haunted him despite his relief at having her back aboard the safety of Voyager. 

Some situations didn’t have a clear victory despite a resolution. Some resolutions were painful even if they were right. Sometimes right didn’t mean happy. 

In this case, he desperately wished it did. 

Setting his book aside, he rose from his chair and marched toward the door. He came to a halt just before the electronic door could detect his presence and release him from his quarters. 

If Kathryn was in the holodeck, maybe she didn’t want company. Maybe she was running a program that comforted her - perhaps the Da Vinci simulation. Getting lost in a historical simulation was an easy way to forget one’s own life and struggles. 

But he couldn’t stop himself from going to her. 

Chakotay strode down the passageways to Holodeck One, offering obligatory nods to crewmembers as he passed. The nightshift was about to begin, and the halls were mostly deserted except for a few weary officers making their way to their quarters for the evening. 

After a few rigorous days on Quarra, he should have been tired too. Instead, he was roaming the halls in search of Kathryn; perhaps looking for some validation that he had done the right thing in ripping her from a sublime, if not ignorant, life. 

At the door of Holodeck One, he paused to note the simulation displayed on the monitor. 

Simulation: Janeway-Alpha-Spring. 

Chakotay frowned at the display. He’d never heard her mention this particular simulation, or even noticed it in the data banks. 

Chakotay opened the door, and stepped across the threshold. 

As soon as he entered the simulation, the distinct scent of rain and the warm gust of electrified wind surrounded him. The simulation was compiled of a white farm house with blue shutters across a rolling, grassy field. In the distance, rows upon rows of corn stalks whipped in the wind of a oncoming storm. Rain spattered against his cheeks, the first of many. 

Chakotay hesitated, considering leaving right this moment. He felt he was intruding on something deeply personal; he of all people understood the reverence of sacred ground. But he was already here - he’d already broken the solitude. 

Starting off across the lush, spring grass, Chakotay shielded his face from the wind with a hand poised at his brow. As he neared the farmhouse, he could make out a figure seated on the front porch steps, thick, coppery strands of hair gusting in the wind and rolling across marble-like jaw and cheekbones. 

Chakotay’s stride slowed as he reached the yard. 

Kathryn hadn’t bothered to change clothes for the simulation. She was in her uniform still, though her combadge wasn’t pinned to her chest. Her hands clasped around her knees, holding herself in fetal position on the edge of the step. The closer he got, the more distinct the thin, glistening trail of tears rolling down her cheeks became. 

His heart stammered at her twisted expression of grief. Again, he thought of turning back, but the urge to comfort her was much stronger. 

“Kathryn.”

His voice barely reached above the wind and rain, but she heard him. 

Her chin snapped in his direction, glassy eyes widening, mouth parting in surprise. Her hands smeared desperately at her cheeks to eliminate the evidence of tears as she rose from the steps to maintain a rigid posture. 

“Commander, is there a problem?” She asked.

He came to stand at the bottom of the steps, clutching his hands tightly behind his back. 

“No.” He said, “I was just looking for you.”

She swallowed hard, and lifted her chin. “Why?”

“I was … worried.”

She crossed her arms, and frowned sternly down at him. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“I should have ordered the computer not to locate me.” She said, “I wanted some privacy.”

“I’m sorry.”

She gazed at him somberly for a moment longer before releasing a heavy sigh. She waved him closer as she turned to the front door of the house. 

He followed cautiously, taking one last glance at the billowing storm before entering the farm house behind her. 

Unlike some simulations, the farm house was meticulously detailed. Yellow and white checkered curtains  bordered the window over the kitchen sink, and pristine rows of hand-painted china glinted in a display cabinet behind the table. A bouquet of wildflowers was positioned in the center of the table, programed to give off a sweet smell. 

Kathryn opened the refrigerator door and retrieved a full pitcher of iced tea. As Chakotay drew closer, he noted the photographs hanging by magnets on the refrigerator door. Most of the photos depicted two young, red-headed, freckle-faced girls. One of them had familiar blue eyes, and a mischievous smile. 

Chakotay turned slowly as to peer at Kathryn as she poured two glasses of tea. 

“Is that you?” He asked, softly. 

She glanced over her shoulder to see him squinting at the photographs. 

“And my sister.” She said, motioning to one of the photographs of the two girls with with arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. “That was right after I won the final tennis match in a regional tournament.”

“You look very happy.”

“I should have known better. I lost in the nationals by one point. On this very day, in fact.” She said, motioning to their surroundings. 

“The day you walked home in the rain?”

“I hadn’t gotten half a mile down the road before the rain started.” She said, a sad smile tipping her mouth, “But I was too angry and proud to turn back. When I finally got home, I was soaked to the bone, shivering, cold. My father was angry with me, but my mother simply called the doctor. She was convinced I would get pneumonia.”

“Why would you want to remember this day so vividly, then?” Chakotay asked, “Why not recreate the day you won at regionals?”

“I learned something important about myself the day I lost the nationals.” Kathryn said. She joined him in front of the photographs and offered him a glass of tea. He took the cup, but didn’t drink as Kathryn continued. “I was damn good at tennis, but losing - not so much. I struggled with it for a long time because I truly believed I was a better player than the girl who beat me. I was convinced bad luck had caused me to lose. But when I got to Starfleet Academy, there wasn’t a single instructor who would throw such a pathetic pity party for a student who failed - in academics, in physical training, in anything. It was a difficult lesson for me to learn.”

“Mm.” Chakotay agreed. “I seem to recall more than one speech from Professor Santori about taking credit for your failures.”

Kathryn chuckled, “And he wasn’t the only one.”

“How old were you here?” Chakotay asked, motioning to the picture. 

“Twelve.” Kathryn said, drawing in a deep breath. “A very long time ago.”

“Apparently, not long enough.”

“I started working on this simulation a year ago.” Kathryn said, “I was starting to get homesick, but I didn’t want to admit it to anyone. I suppose hiding out in the Holodeck is a good excuse to think about - cry about - home being half a world away.”

“I’m sorry I intruded.” Chakotay said, lowering his head. 

“Sometimes emotional exposure is good for the soul.” She murmured, “Shared pain, therapeutic …”

“Are you sure?”

Kathryn expression flickered with barely concealed pain, damp hedging at the corners of her eyes again. 

“If I don’t tell you this, I’m afraid it will hurt me … indefinitely.” She whispered, her voice thick and hoarse. “And you’re the only one that I feel I can trust to confide in.”

“I’m glad you trust me.” Chakotay said, “I hope you know, I trust you just the same.”

“Even when I can’t remember you face … your name … everything we’ve gone through together?” 

“You weren’t yourself.”

“I was someone else entirely.” She said, dashing a fingertip quickly across her cheeks to catch an errant tear. “I feel like I betrayed you in some way.”

“How would that be?”

She lifted her shoulders. Her lips compressed against emotion, and she turned to hide her face from him. His hand hovered over her shoulder before he gathered the confidence to touch her. As his hand settled on her arm, she let out a shuddering breath. 

“I’ve combatted homesickness ever since we got lost here in the Delta Quadrant.” She whispered, “I’ve pretended that I can live the rest of my life on this ship, that I can be happy because command is what I’ve always wanted. I’ve even ordered myself to forget what Earth is like, what normal life could be like for me. But a part of me always wants what I can’t have.”

“And what is that?” Chakotay asked, softly. 

“Home.”

“Kathryn, we’re going to get there.” Chakotay said. 

Setting his untouched glass of iced tea on the counter, he eased closer to her. His chest brushed against her back, and he felt her lean into the contact. She looked over her shoulder at him, her jaw taut against emotion, her eyelashes glistening with trapped tears. 

“For a little while, the life on that planet felt like home.” She murmured, “Ground beneath my feet, a job I could enjoy, time for relaxation … love. It all felt so real.”

“It was real.”

“No.” She said, her voice going harsh. She set her glass down next to his with a clank. “It wasn’t real, Chakotay. It was some horrible, lucid dream that didn’t belong to me. It was forced on me, and I accepted it without batting an eye.”

“Kathryn-”

She spun to face him, her cheeks flush with anger. 

“I let myself believe it was love.” She said, the words wobbling from her lips. Tears gathered thick and hot against her eyelids, but she didn’t move to bat them away as she had before. “I lost Mark, and now I’ve lost someone else - someone I may not have fallen for if my memories hadn’t been wiped. Someone I barely knew, someone fabricated-”

“Please, don’t tell me you’re blaming yourself for this.”

She took a step back, lifting her chin against the tide of tears and rage. 

“A captain’s life isn’t about love or romance.” She said, her voice wavering but controlled, “The sooner I accept that - just like I accepted losing the tennis nationals - the better off I will be.”

“So because you’re a starship captain, you’re not deserving of happiness?”

“Deserving has nothing to do with it. I have duties and-”

“I’m sorry, Kathryn, but I disagree.”

Her tirade came to an abrupt halt. Hazy, blue eyes blinked up at him, her lips moving yet not issuing a sound. 

“Duty doesn’t preclude love or happiness.” Chakotay said, “I can’t bear to see you this way.”

She swallowed rigidly, and pulled her shoulders back in a defensive stance. 

“So, what do you suggest I do?” 

“Maybe you can’t live with yourself for changing the rules.” He said, closing the space between them in a few swift strides. “But I can.”

She could hardly make a sound of protest before he took her in his arms, and pressed a fervent kiss to her parted lips. Her hands batted in limp protest against his chest, but her mouth melted against his, lips opening to the stroke of his tongue, head falling back to the passionate pressure of his kiss. He clutched her waist, urging her back against the cool surface of the refrigerator and pinning her there. She moaned quietly, and took hold of his neck, pulling him deeper into the warm, pulsing kiss. 

Cradling her jaw, he kissed harder at her open, panting lips, teeth nipping softly at the puffy swell of her lower lip, tongue stroking over hers and reveling in the sweet taste of her mouth. She sank against the refrigerator, body pliable and exuding rising warmth at his touch. He slid his hand down the grasp the swell of her hip, hesitating for only a brief moment before stretching his fingers around the back of her thigh. Her backside was warm and supple beneath the fabric of her trousers, and fit neatly in the palm of his hand. 

She was the first to break the kiss, chin dragging along his cheek and breath gusting hot against his ear. He delved his lips down along her jaw and neck, aware he’d discarded a gentle touch but unable to stop himself. He found her chest with his other hand, fondling the swell of her breast through the restrictive layers of her uniform.

She moaned, hips bucking against the pressure of his body. Her neck stayed open to the blazing trail of his kisses despite the clench and jar of her body. She clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into fabric in a primal hunt for naked skin. 

“Chakotay …” She panted, wiggling against him. 

He tore his mouth from her neck, bringing them face-to-face with barely an inch of room between them. Their breaths mingled hot and discordant, and their eyes met like the fury of two storms racing to greet each other. 

“Tell me to stop now, and I will.” He whispered. 

Self-control wasn’t out of the question when he could still see just behind the horizon of his need to her damaged consent. The Quarran people had violated her enough; he wouldn’t lather over his baser instincts with suppositions of mutual need that hadn’t yet left her mouth. 

Kathryn’s lashes batted, a small frown twisting her brow. 

“I think you already know how we feel about each other.” She whispered, her voice low and thick. 

“I’m not one to assume. I can go right now if you want me to.”

Her hesitation lasted just long enough to plunge his heart down into his belly. He meant what he said with every fiber of his being because he cared too much about her to be selfish, because she’d already been through enough, because it was too soon after another devastating loss. But as ardent as his protective instincts were, his desire for her was just as strong. This rejection would sting worse than any other he’d felt before. 

He leaned back, relinquishing his grip on her waist. 

She remained plastered to the cool, steel surface of the refrigerator as he backed away. 

Their eyes locked, conducting emotion and energy between them. He clung to those fragments of fire in her dour, gray eyes, the tiny glimpses of emotion not damaged by time and cruelty. 

He turned to leave, silently damning himself for ever coming here. 

“Chakotay.”

Her husky voice pulled him about, like a puppet tethered to string. His hands clutched into fists at his sides as she pushed off the refrigerator and shuffled closer. 

She gave an incremental shake of her head. “I don’t want you to go.”

Her eyes were wide and bright, glimmering with unshed tears of both pain and joy. Her jaw quivered taut, mouth forming a tight line against emotion. Her hands hung limp at her sides, and her shoulders rested concavely with the weight of mental and physical exhaustion. 

He wouldn’t have preferred her to come to him weary and defeated, but the universe had always preferred to bring them together when they were at their lowest. 

He closed the space between them with a few trembling steps, and lifted his fingers to the regal curve of her cheekbone. Every tiny detail of her face became apparent to him in this moment; the small fly-away hairs at her temples, the faint smattering of freckles across her nose, the wilted shape of her sorrowful mouth, the steel hiding behind the glimmering pain in the sapphire blue of her eyes. 

She shifted closer, turning her face into the palm of his hand. Her hand quested through the space between them to curl around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him to her. His fingers delved into the hair at her nape as she rested her cheek against his chest and wound her arms around him. 

The embrace completed, like two lines joining to form a circle.

He curled his arm around her shoulders, pinning her to his chest. She felt small and delicate in his arms, her bones thin and delicate, her chest fluttering with every breath like some tiny, breakable songbird. 

He’d seen her hard lines and rough edges when she stood on the bridge, in full command of Voyager. He was being given the honor of her vulnerability, of her tenderness. 

An eternity seemed to pass in the brief moments of their embrace. When she jostled in his arms, jarring his eyes open to reality, the fabric of the universe felt radically altered. 

“Come with me.” She said, reaching down to his hand. “I want to show you something.”

Their fingers laced together as she turned to pull him into motion. He followed her out of the kitchen and through the living room. The detail in this room of the simulation was just as absolute as in the kitchen, but he had little time to appreciate it. She led him to the staircase which led up to the second story of the home. He could only imagine how many hours she had poured into recreating her childhood home from memory. 

As they climbed the steps, he noted the pictures framed on the wall, depicting Kathryn and her sister and parents through the years. He caught a glimpse of her Starfleet Academy graduation photo just before they rounded the corner to the second flight of stairs. 

He’d seen the photo in Federation data banks at the beginning of the Maquis and  _ Voyager  _ alliance, when he’d been searching for information on his new comrade. That photo had come with his first impression of her - that of an inexperienced, idealistic, self-congratulatory Starfleet brat. His ideas about her had changed quickly, but the sight of the photo only brought a smile to his lips. That jaded Maquis captain hadn’t had a clue what was about to hit him. 

At the top of the stairs, a dark corridor lay ahead. Kathryn marched ahead, knowing the shape of the house by heart without the need for lights. At the end of the hall, she opened a door and felt along the wall for the light switch. Illumination flooded the room. 

Chakotay’s smile broadened as he stepped past her into what he supposed was her childhood bedroom. The markings of youth were plastered on the walls and furniture, but he was most taken by the mural of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” replicated on the wall facing toward the cornfield behind the house. A large window interrupted the center of the painting, filling in the artwork with the image of the real moon and stars outside. 

“Did you do this?” Chakotay asked, stepping closer to examine the replica of the famous piece. 

“My sister.” Kathryn said, “She was a much better artist than I.”

“It’s incredible.”

“I wanted to see the stars at all times.” Kathryn said, smile tipping her mouth as she joined him by the window. “I did her Calculus homework for a month while she painted.” 

“Were you always obsessed with exploring outer space?”

“As long as I can remember.”

“I can imagine.” Chakotay said. 

He turned in a half-circle to survey the rest of the bedroom. His eyes came to rest on the bed in the corner, the duvet turned back and sheets tangled and messy. 

“Not exactly up to Starfleet’s standards for living quarters.” He remarked. 

“My bedroom was my sanctuary.” She said, “I didn’t have to follow the rules here.”

“How close to the real thing is this simulation?” Chakotay asked.

“As real as I could recall. It’s been some time since I’ve been home, but the memories here are very vivid.” She said, wandering across the room to the desk. She dragged her fingertip along the surface of the desk, finding no dust. “This house is preserved in my mind as if in a cryogenic state of infinity. When I think about home, this is what I imagine.”

“How long did you live here?”

“We moved in when I was ten.” Kathryn said, “We had just returned from my father’s posting in San Francisco, and he wanted a real home for us. We’d always been Indiana natives, and he wanted to put down permanent roots … I didn’t leave this house until I graduated from the Academy and received my first posting.”

“It must have been difficult to leave.”

“On the contrary, I was itching for a life in space.”

“You certainly got it.”

Kathryn turned from the desk, a sad smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

“I can’t bring myself to regret how we got here.” She said, “It’s done and gone, and it can’t be changed now. I don’t believe in Fate, but I do believe in working with the cards you are dealt. We’ve done well here on  _ Voyager _ .”

“Not without our share of troubles, though.”

“No. But what’s life without troubles?”

“Some would say ‘happy’.”

“I’m not content with a life of complacency and stagnancy.”

“You’re an explorer. It’s in your veins.”

“And you?” She asked, “What did you paint on your walls as a child?”

“It wasn’t exploration.” Chakotay said, “In fact, I find life in space unnatural. I was looking for escape, and space just so happened to be the first one available.”

“That’s why you joined the Academy?”

“In part.”

“Do you miss home now?”

“More than ever. It’s unfortunate that we never know what we have until it’s taken from us.”

Kathryn’s expression dimmed with solemnity. She wrapped her arms around her middle, and traversed the wooden planks of the floor between them. Her chin tilted back to maintain their gaze as she came toe-to-toe with him. 

“Is that why you kissed me?” She murmured. 

“I’d be a fool not to realize what I have.” He said, resisting the urge to take her by the waist again. 

“And what is it that you have?”

“Something I never would have been blessed with if my ship hadn’t been pulled into the Delta Quadrant.” Chakotay said. 

“You think very highly of me.”

“More highly than anyone else I know.”

“I think I’m the one who has been blessed.” Kathryn said. She tucked a lock of hair behind her with an anxious hand, her fingers lingering at her neck. “I’m damaged goods.”

“We’re all damaged.” Chakotay replied, “Sometimes, it’s our damage that defines us.”

“You find that part of reality beautiful.”

“In a way.”

“I think it’s ugly.” Kathryn whispered, her eyes creeping up to meet his. Moisture glinted like tiny jewels at the corners of her eyes, catching the dim light and reflecting her sorrows. “I think it’s cruel that I’m condemned to be nothing more than the impression of the last man who touched me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“But it’s what it means to be a woman. Something you’ll never understand.”

“No, I won’t. But I know who are you, Kathryn.” Chakotay said, his chest igniting with sudden anger. 

Of course, he’d resented Jaffen for having the pleasure of knowing Kathryn intimately. He’d never felt such burning, enraged jealousy in his life than when he went down to Quarra to rescue the crew, only to find they were much happier in their fake lives without him. That she was happier without any knowledge of him. 

But he didn’t resent her. And he certainly didn’t see Jaffen’s face when he let his gaze journey the shapes and curves and ridges of her body. 

There was no spark of agreement in her eyes as she turned away from his confident platitude. 

He had risked his life to save her from Quarra, and save her he had - but he suddenly felt powerless in the aftermath, an element of chaos he hadn’t quite anticipated. He regretted kissing her with such demand and need now. It seemed coarse and insensitive under the glaring microscope of her misery. They’d taken her consent from her, and with it her dignity, and perhaps a portion of her self-respect.

Ducking his head, he swept past her toward the bedroom door. 

“I should go.” He muttered. 

“I’m sorry.” She blurted, her head whipping up to gaze after him. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He said, quietly but firmly. 

“I said I didn’t want you to go, and I meant it.”

“I shouldn’t be here.” He said, “I shouldn’t have come. I realize now that I’ve intruded on something sacred and healing, and my presence here isn’t helping it along.”

“Yes it is.” She said, her eyes sparking life. A flush of life crept into her cheeks, a burst of rosy color that relieved by a small measure the dread aching in his chest. 

“I need you to be here.” She whispered, hoarsely. “To see and know-”

Tears choked her voice, and she turned away just before he could glimpse her face crumpling. 

He couldn’t stop himself from going to her once more, wrapping his arms around her shuddering shoulders, and crushing her to his chest. She clung to his shirt as her legs buckled and the tenor of her sobs swelled to a heart-wrenching moan. He caught her before she could crumble, and lifted her into his arms as if she were a helpless infant. She turned her face into his neck, smearing wet tears into his skin as the pain expunged itself from her body. 

He carried her to the bed, and sat down the edge of the mattress. He shifted his arm from beneath her legs in order to wrap both arms fiercely around her shaking body. Holding her securely against his chest, he stroked one hand through her hair in a soothing motion. Fixed on Starry Night, his eyes stung with commiseration. The sound of her pain rent his chest in two, but the realization that he could only be a salve, not the cure, hurt him more. 

After what felt like a lifetime, her sobs eased to choked whimpers, to breathless gulps, and finally to thin, rattling exhales. She pried her fingers loose from his shirt, and carefully wiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket. 

“Can we lie back?” She whispered, her voice strangled and rough from crying. 

He answered without hesitation, dragging them to the middle of the narrow bed and reclining against the pillow. She turned her face into his chest, and brought her legs up over his hip. He curled against her, cradling her bottom against his hips. He gently laid a hand on her belly, absorbing the warmth of her skin and feeling the residual tremble of tears nesting there. 

They laid in silence, listening to the howl of the wind and the patter of raindrops against the siding. The house creaked and settled, old beams and floorboards groaning against the surge of the storm. Starry Night presided over their repose, a silent voyeur to the past and the present, and all that had occupied this bed. 

Kathryn lifted her face from his chest, and settled her head against the pillow across from him. Her cheeks were patched with red, her eyelids puffy and smeared with tears and mascara. Her eyes were bloodshot, but gentle and fond. 

She reached out a fingertip to trace the arch of his eyebrow, and the swirling pattern of ink infused below the skin. He felt her fingertip follow the familiar design, only stopping when the tattoo disappeared into his hairline. 

“I meant it when I said I didn’t regret that you came for me.” She whispered. 

“I know.” 

“You’ll always come for me, won’t you?”

He wrapped his arm tighter around her waist, hauling her closer. 

“They’d have to hogtie and gag me to keep me away.” He said, smiling softly. 

“And even then you’d find a way.”

“Until you don’t want me to anymore.”

She shook her head, her brows furrowing as if the prospect disgusted her. “That will never happen.”

“Good.” 

Her head tilted forward across the pillow, bringing their faces within an inch of each other. She paused to search his face for a moment before leaning in to press her mouth softly against his. 

He froze, momentarily shocked by her initiating the contact. Was he to be the most recent impression of male dominance on her skin? He thoroughly rejected the idea, but his desires were potent, as old as time and the world itself. There was nothing unique about his desire for her; nothing to separate his cock from Mark’s or Jaffen’s or anyone else who had come before. Hadn’t they all loved her just like he did? Hadn’t they all hurt her?

Kathryn severed the kiss, sensing the tension gathering in his chest. 

“What is it?” She whispered. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He replied, searching her face with the passionate hope that she would contradict him. 

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“You’ve waited this long to tell me how you feel.” She said, “I know it wasn’t easy.”

“Is there a medal now for self-control?”

“No.” She said, her mouth twisting in a sad smile. “But you don’t know how yours means the world to me.”

“And it was all undone in a minute.” Chakotay said, “I shouldn’t have kissed you in the kitchen.”

“Maybe not. But I’m kissing you now, and I would like for you to kiss me back.”

“All right.” He acquiesced. 

He didn’t think as highly of his self-control as she did. 

Taking her by the cheek, he pulled her into a kiss that started gentle and tepid, but quickly evolved to a heated, urgent exchange. Her mouth was sweet and soft, compliant to the stroke of his tongue but assertive in the same turn. She pushed back with her own tongue, tasting him with a low, vibrating moan that rippled down his spine and into his belly. He clutched at her waist, aching to feel lower into the heat he imagined was beginning to rise between her legs. 

Kathryn broke the kiss suddenly, her breath gusting hot across his cheeks. She pried his hand from her waist and guided his fingers to the button of her trousers. 

“Take them off.” She panted. 

His stomach clamped with pleasure at the sound of her raspy request. His fingers grabbed clumsily at the fasten of her trousers, suddenly too overwhelmed to function properly. The button and zipper came open at last, parting to reveal a swatch of yellow cotton. A tiny bow adorned the elastic waistband of her panties, the only decor to otherwise plain fabric. He hadn’t expected lace, but the discovery still made him smile. 

He wrangled the trousers from her legs and discarded them over the edge of the bed. From waist-up she was still the captain he knew, her collar high around her throat, her jacket zipped shut. But below, her pale thighs were open wide to his invite his touch, and the crotch of her panties was faintly damp. 

Her teeth tugged at her lower lip as his calloused palm cruised along her inner thigh. Her skin was like cream, bringing a low groan to the back of his throat. He paused at the join of her thigh and hip, lingering hesitation delaying the intimacy. 

Her hips trembled toward the weight of his hand, a silent plea. Her eyes swung to meet his, wide and pulsing with desire. Her cheeks were dashed with pink, tears long gone and replaced by lively, blooming arousal. 

Chakotay threw the mantle of dread aside, and brought his hand resolutely between her legs. He rubbed his fingers into the damp fabric, massaging the cotton into her aching skin and bringing a whimper to her mouth. Her hips rolled to meet the stroke, thighs flexing and trembling around his wrist. 

He rose from the mattress, and pushed between her legs. Her knees fell open to his nudging, eagerly displaying herself. His first urge was to find the quickest path to her wet, aching sex, but he was weary of the uniforms, the last shred of pretense between them. 

He took the front of her jacket in his fist, and unzipped it with the other, spreading the garment from her rising and falling breasts. 

She pushed up onto her elbows, and wiggled out of the jacket. Before it had even cleared her elbows, he peeled the hem of her shirt back from her ribs. As the fabric came away, inch by inch, Chakotay’s mouth turned dry. The stretch of her belly was smooth and pale, the heave of her ribs pressing taut just beneath. Her breasts were concealed by a simple, white bra, no lace, no frills. Her chest expanded, overflowing the thin fabric with the soft, rounded crests of breasts. Narrow bands of pale blue veins etched just beneath the surface of her alabaster complexion, over the sides of her breasts, her inner arms and the column of her throat. 

As the shirt cleared her head, she twisted an arm behind her back to unfasten her bra. The constricting garment drooped from her shoulders and away from her breasts, allowing them to fall heavy and natural against her ribcage. He snatched the bra from her arms, and threw it away, offended by the fabric that had kept her beautiful chest caged from view. 

She fell back against the pillows as he took her breasts in his hands, releasing a sweet sigh that echoed through his head. Her nipples swelled to hard peaks, pale pink turning dusky and engorged. He tipped his mouth to one, kissing softly at first, and harder as his tongue rolled across the pebbled flesh. Her chest expanded with a gasp as he clamped down on the tender nipple. 

She clutched at his shoulders, arching and bucking against the sweet torture his mouth inflicted on her breasts. He went between them, lathering each with his tongue before turning them pink with suckles and nibbles. 

When he ceased his ministrations, she lay beneath him panting and flushed, a smile playing on her lips. Her arms stretched above her, a suggestive, submissive posture. 

He brought his mouth back to her skin, but delved lower this time, following the dip between her ribs down to the soft, trembling plane of her belly. She sucked in a breath as he breathed hotly against her hipbone, just above the elastic of her panties. She wiggled her hips, eager to have the final scrap of fabric gone from her. 

Chakotay slid his palms up her thighs until he reached the waistband, and delved his fingers underneath. He dragged the fabric away from her skin, each inch releasing methodical and slow to his hungry gaze. Her legs clutched together until the panties cleared her ankles, but as he set the last little piece of fabric aside, she stretched her thighs open. 

The breath hitched on the back of his throat as her pale thighs parted, revealing the smooth swell of her mound, the dusky pink folds of her labia, her already swollen clitoris peeking just above. He could see her glistening with musky arousal, just waiting his touch to climb the peaks of pleasure. 

He snagged her by the thighs, and folded her legs up against her chest, leaving her entirely vulnerable. 

She moaned softly at his guidance. Her legs remained curled against her chest as he released them, and shifted lower onto the mattress. Her head popped up from the pillow, following the path his mouth took, first against her inner thigh and the bottom curve of her buttock, finally to where she was throbbing and wet. 

She gasped at the first stroke of his tongue, her back arching taut, her fists grabbing at the sheets. He steadied his hands on her hips as he dragged his tongue in a lavish pattern up and down the gushing slit. Her labia parted to the persistent nudging, and he swirled his tongue fully against her sensitive clitoris. She bucked in his hands, her feet rushing down to meet his shoulders. 

“Ohhh…” Her thin cry plunged heat into his belly where a throbbing ache began to swell. He could feel his cock fighting the restraints of his trousers and pushing into the mattress with all it’s primal demands. 

But she came first. 

His tongue stroked slick and persistent against her, lapping at the rushes of wetness that came each time she tightened, hanging on the verge of rapture. She flexed and tensed beneath him, her heels digging into his shoulders or dragging his face closer when the pressure lapsed. He chased after every cue her body gave him and every moan that pierced her lips, willfully submerging himself in the tide of her mounting pleasure. 

He devoured her taste and tenderness, drowning in the sweet scent of her arousal, and absorbing every ripple and clench that went through her. Above him, she panted and whined, both hands groping at his hair, hips clenching and jumping to the steady swirl of his tongue. Her teeth scraped across her lower lip and her brows furled in concentration. Quick, short inhales rushed through her flared nostrils and exhaled in the form of a moan past the bite of her teeth. Her chest expanded with a trapped breath, every muscle stiffening. 

She stilled, teetering on the edge of pleasure for a moment stretched in time. The moment shattered with the wild surge of pleasure that exploded through her. She came undone against his mouth, her hips thrusting in jagged bursts from the clutch of his hands. He followed the bucking pattern of her hips, lapping at the wetness that gushed in excess from her. Her moans came low and choked, each one swallowed up in the next as the pleasure crashed over her in waves. 

When the orgasm began to dwindle, her fingers loosened around his hair and she sank limply to the sheets. Her feet slid from his shoulders to the bedsheets, and her knees fell around him, drained of strength.

He licked dampness from his lips as he shifted up to align his chest over hers. He stroked loose strands of hair from her face, and pressed his mouth to her soft, flushed cheeks. She uttered a low sigh as his kisses traveled down her jaw to the length of her neck. Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him down against her. 

His hips collided with hers as the embrace tightened, his cock resting painfully hard against the ridge of her pelvis. She ground against him, breathing winding moans into his ear. Need tugged at his mind, sending his fingers hunting for the fasten of his trousers. He worked the fabric open with a impatient groan, and released his cock from the suffocating cotton. 

Her hands, rushing to assist him, pushed his pants down to his thighs and claimed his backside. She pulled him boldly against her, arching her hips to let him penetrate her completely in the first thrust. 

“Oh, God …” The strangled moan rushed to his lips. 

Pleasure stampeded him, the need of so many years reaching its pinnacle. He pressed his forehead against her shoulder, and blew out a steadying breath. Heat raced unfettered and eager through his veins, threatening to send him spilling over the edge with hardly a stroke or two inside her. 

It had been quite long since he’d shared such intimacy with anyone, even longer since he’d done so with someone he truly cared for. There had been members of the Maquis - Seska, regretfully, among others - but the heated coupling had always been more out of opportunity and necessity rather than love. He’d laid hold of something real with Kathryn, and he’d be damned if he let this moment slip away quickly and underappreciated like all the rest. 

Kathryn pressed a soothing kiss against his temple. 

“You feel so good.” She whispered, he nails gliding exquisitely through his hair and against his scalp. 

_ So do you. You feel better than anything I’ve ever experienced _ . 

The thought was quick to enter his mind, but he was gagged by the pounding need that threatened to end him.

He buried his face in her neck, and rolled his hips softly against her. The minor movement sent tingles rippling through his whole being, an inexplicable sensation that filled his him with warmth. The need to protect her did not abate even as she rocked against him, dragging him willingly down into pleasure with her. Every feeling he’d ever had toward her intensified, to an almost unbearable peak. He wanted to devour her into his soul, to discover and worship every part. Cover her wounds with kisses, her scars with a loving touch. There had been so many times when he thought he would explode with the severity of his love for her, but all of them paled in comparison to this moment of rapture. The passageways and bulkheads of the ship fell away; they were grounded in Indiana, at home, with Starry Night watching over them, and all of Kathryn’s dreams hidden away in this little shrine. Nothing had ever been more real. 

He trembled in her embrace, pleasure excising from his body in heaving spasms of release. The raw ache and burn of desire tapered off into radiating warmth of satisfaction. Their bodies remained locked together, sticky heat drizzling from their joined parts. 

Chakotay settled his head against the pillow of her breasts, releasing a faint sigh of satisfaction. Her fingers circled lazily against his nape, eliciting a low wave of tingles down his spine. 

“I’ve never had sex in this room before.” Kathryn murmured. 

He lifted his head from her chest to see her gazing at the ceiling, a slight smile tipping her mouth. 

“You haven’t really ever, considering this isn’t real.” He said. 

“It’s real enough.”

Chakotay ducked his head to press a row of kisses against the curve of her breast. Her skin was soft and warm, and there was something comforting about her breasts beneath his head. He nuzzled against them again, imprinting the sensation of safety and affection in his brain. 

“My father would have tanned my hide if I ever brought a boy into this room.” Kathryn continued, her chest vibrating with a low chuckle beneath his ear. “I did all of my carousing in the back seats of cars.”

“Bad girl.” Chakotay murmured. 

“Mmm.”

They fell silent for a moment, and he sensed her growing still with solemnity. 

“It’s ironic that I had to travel so many lightyears from home to find who belonged here with me.” She whispered. 

“Do I?”

“Yes.” She said, her tone hardening at his doubt. 

He lifted his head again, and met her gaze. 

“This feels right.” She said, tracing his cheekbone with her fingertips. “Like you should have always been here with me.”

“What about on  _ Voyager _ ?” He asked. 

The question weighed in the back of his mind, and he knew he had to speak it. Whatever happened in this holodeck was part of a simulation. Anything could happen here, and you could leave pretending it hadn’t. 

“I’m the captain.” She said. 

“And a captain’s life isn’t about romance?”

“No, it’s not … But this is more than just romance.” She said, resolutely. “This house may not be real, but … we are.”

Chakotay let out the breath he’d been holding. He leaned over her to impart a soft kiss, and she pulled him down by the jacket. She pulled the front of it open, and let her fingers wander inside, molding to his ribcage and chest. He squirmed out of the jacket, taking her face in his palms as soon as his arms were free. She pushed up against him, rolling them over until she was draped over him, their bodies still barely linked by his drained cock. 

The heavy kissing broke off, and she petted his face anxiously. 

“I don’t want to leave here.” She whispered. 

“We don’t have to.”

“Not now, but eventually.” 

“We’ll face it together.” He said, “Just like we always do.”

“Make me forget.” She murmured, resting her forehead against his.

The whispered request sparked in him some deep, primal need to satisfy, to protect. He urged her back down against the sheets, pinning her trembling thighs open wide, and taking her sweet, dripping sex into his mouth a second time. 

He couldn’t change all that had happened to her; there was no rectifying the damage of the past. But there was the present - this tiny slice of holographic paradise. There was this night. There was home. 

~the end~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)
> 
> You can also find me on [Tumblr!](http://clairehales.tumblr.com//)!


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